Sassenach
by october tuscany
Summary: Modern P&P - A retelling of Chapter 8, in which Lizzy and Caroline have a slight run-in. Set in a house on Lake Michigan, this is Lizzy's reflection on her standing in the house.


**A/n:** Why, hello. It's been a longggg time, my dears. This is my first foray into Pride and Prejudice, and my re-entrance into the FF realm of possibilities. It's been a really long time since I've published and/or even worked on a story, so this little ditty is my chance to get back in the game.

It's a modern one-shot set to the tune of Chapter 8, with a hint of the 2005 film mixed in for good measure.

The Bingleys, along with Charlie's good friend Will Darcy, are summering in the small lake-side town of Longbourne where the family Bennett lives year-round.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Pride and Prejudice or Outlander (by Diana Gabaldon), where I got the title for the story and the brief snippets of text.

**Sassenach**

"_I mean to make ye call me 'master,' Sassenach." His soft voice was a threat of revenge for the agonies of the last minutes. "I mean to make you mine."_

My reading enjoyment was interrupted, as it had been for the last half-hour, by the light, sugary-sweet voice of one Caro Bingley. She was fawning all over Will, as she has been almost the entire time I've been here in the living room.

I had come down at three or so after hanging out ("Hiding out, Liz, and you know it") in the guest room where Jane was settled while she had a sprained ankle. She had fallen off her bike and stumbled into a ditch on the way over to the Bingley's summer cottage, two miles up the hill from our house, to visit Caro and Lisa. As our parents were visiting some friends out-of-state, they thought it was perfectly fine to leave their 18- and 16-year-old daughters to hold down the fort and potentially find fiancés. Really, Mom, it's 2009. Get a grip.

Back to Jane's unfortunate mishap, however, Charlie made the executive decision that she shouldn't be moved or be allowed to move until her ankle was all better or our parents returned (on hearing this, my mother brilliantly replied, "My dear Lizzy! Why, we might have to prolong our trip… I'm sure Charlie will be thrilled to have your sister in bed all day…" "Mom. _Really_?"). When I finally surrendered to the domineering Bingleys, I not-very-pleasantly told them I had to get some things if we were to stay and rode my bike back down the hill to my house, grabbed as much of mine and Jane's crap that I could fit into two duffle bags and made my way outside to strap the stuff onto my bike. To my pleasant (Not.) surprise, Will Darcy had condescended to drive his shiny black Lexus down to our dinky house and pick me up with our stuff.

And so began my going-on-four-day-long stay at Netherfield, the imposing four-story "cabin" on the shore of Lake Michigan.

On entering the room this afternoon, I saw that Caro, Lisa, Lisa's boyfriend Al, Charlie, and Will playing poker. I knew a fair bit about the game from my best friend and her obsession with the MySpace app Texas Hold 'Em, but flat-out refused the offer of being dealt in. These were kids that grew up in New York City, London, and Paris, and generally summered in the Hamptons, the Bahamas, and other great the's. I knew they'd be playing for things like my parents' mortgage.

With the excuse of my thick novel, I stretched out on the floor, over-stuffed couches and armchairs be damned. I knew what Caro and Lisa were whispering. Not very hard to ignore their tinny voices whipping labels such as "common" and "undignified" in the general direction of my sprawled person. Half-hidden behind the couch, I was enjoying the chance to eaves-drop on the more fortunate. Lots to be added to my "Summer from HELL" blog, which was getting closer to the size of the 800+ page novel laying on the ground in front of me.

And speaking of my novel…

"_Oh, aye, Sassenach," he answered a bit ruefully. "I am your master… and you're mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own." He turned me – _

"Why, Al, Eliza finds no greater pleasure than reading. She hardly finds joy in anything else." Caro sent a smirk in my direction. I couldn't help but to duck my head to hide my face while I laughed. "What sort of great work are you finding so much pleasure in?"

Seriously? I had to. I really, _really _had to. If you were in my position, you'd do it.

In my best unaffected, Midwestern-teenager accent, I announced, "Porn," without looking up from my book.

Okay, so I snuck a peek. Caro's jaw was somewhere around the $500 chips on the table in front of her. Lisa and Al had nearly identical looks of disbelief touched with uncertainty on their faces. Charlie had busted out laughing and Will had cocked an eyebrow.

Recovering slightly, Caro exclaimed, "Really, Eliza! That – p – that! Is not appropriate in our house!"

"Chill, babe." I sat up, holding the book open, flipping the pages so she could see the unending text. "It's just a novel. However, scientists have found that reading romantic novels increases blood pressure and other signs of arousal for girls like action movies and pictures of naked women do for guys. True fact."

She was still just staring, gaping wordlessly at me. With a shrug I lay back down, getting ready to enjoy more Jaime-and-Claire-happy-time.

I don't belong here. I mean, yeah, here on the shore of a lake in Nowhere Central (AKA, the Midwest), I belong in this town with my family and my life. But I don't belong here with the rich and famous. I'm practically an outlander to them, a Sassenach like Claire. Caro and Lisa continue their whispers and giggles. Charlie, being a gracious host, has stopped laughing and is trying to rally his friends in the card game. Will Darcy, on the other hand, keeps staring at me as I lay on the floor, hair swinging down to cover my face. I don't want to see any of them, especially him.

"Really, Will, it's your turn. Silly, you need to ante or drop." Caro was doing that thing with her hands, running one down Will's arm to get his attention. Her appeals are falling on deaf ears, but really, she should know that he's definitely not looking at me _that way_. If the skinny jeans and Chucks didn't clearly state I'm not his type, then the bubble-gum pink streaks in my hair and lip ring should have done the trick. But of course, she's rich, not smart.

Again, I really don't belong here. These are trust fund kids and I'm… well, my best bet is U of M, where I'll get in-state tuition rates and an easy commute for my vacations. Woo-hoo. These five have their choice of Yale, Harvard, Brown at the very least, and a European education at the best. I'm here in grungy sneakers and a tee shirt while they're all sporting designer khakis and polos. Pastels, as always, are in this season, and Caro seems to think that pink is her color. I suppose with red hair you don't really have much choice, but she's disregarding the fact entirely.

But she's pretty. The right sort for this type of circle. She's the kind of girl that belongs in the good graces of guys like Will Darcy. She obviously can't tell that he's staring so much because he's never seen a girl with as much iron as I have and not because he has any romantic interest in me. I think he'd have a heart attack if he saw the tattoo I was planning.

So in all, Caro, don't worry about me stealing your prospective man. The Sassenach will keep on the fringes of your society, and at the end of the summer, she will happily see you and yours off.

Then the shore of Lake Michigan will be mine again.

**A/n: So it's not exactly the same scene, and it's awkward in places, but I've been having ahard time writing. Just bear with me for the next few months and maybe I can come up with something worth reading. **

**Hope you enjoyed it anyway.**


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